Raising the Wreckage
by poetzproblem
Summary: The thing about falling is that, sooner or later, you're going to hit the ground. The intensity of the impact varies on the speed and distance, but chances are, it's always going to hurt. Quinn knows this from painful experience. Sequel to "Sinking Ships."


**Author's Note:** Written for Angel who wanted a fluffy, smutty sequel to _Sinking Ships_. If you haven't already read that one, you probably should.

Eternal thanks and cyber-hugs to Skywarrior108 for being the most awesome beta.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Glee_ or the characters, I just like to play with them…strictly non-profit.

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**Raising the Wreckage**

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The thing about falling is that, sooner or later, you're going to hit the ground. The intensity of the impact varies on the speed and distance, but chances are, it's always going to hurt. Quinn knows this from painful experience. She's fallen repeatedly with varying degrees of injury, but she's always managed to stop herself before she's been completely broken. Until now.

"_There's one thing that I need to know before I go back to New York."_

Those words are the thing to seal Quinn's fate—well, the words and the breathtaking kiss that followed.

Quinn was exhausted—from her classes, from her extracurricular activities (in and out of her dorm room), and mostly, from the futile conversation that she was having with Rachel Berry. She's had enough of them over the years to know that they never really make a difference. Rachel never listens to what Quinn has to say, and she never seems to follow through on all her pretty words and empty promises. So maybe Quinn is just as guilty as Rachel of letting their friendship, such as it was, slip away, but _God_—holding on to it had nearly killed her. Literally.

She'd already reached out to Rachel so far beyond her comfort zone when she bought those damned train tickets, and she just didn't have it in her to do it again, especially not while she was still nursing the maddening crush—or whatever it was—that she wanted so desperately to get over. She was almost grateful when Rachel had disappeared into her own life so completely, finally giving Quinn the distance that she needed to let it all go.

And she _had_ let it go. Until Rachel showed up in New Haven like a jealous girlfriend, invading all of Quinn's personal spaces and tumbling down her well-built walls with a single kiss. It was uninvited, unexpected, unfathomable, and so unbelievably better than anything Quinn had ever dared to imagine. Rachel's lips were soft and sweet, and Quinn's brain completely disengaged until she was kissing Rachel back with two years—three years, oh fuck it all, _four years_—of repressed desire. She wishes it was terrible. She wants it to be the worst kiss of her life, but she hasn't been able to stop thinking about it for the last seven days.

She'd been fine. She'd been happy on her own in New Haven for months. She stopped expecting Rachel to get over Finn back in August when the idiotic girl had still insisted that they weren't broken up, and she stopped waiting for an invitation to visit New York in early October. She gave up looking for anything of substance in Rachel's emails by November, right before she convinced herself that dating her professor was good idea. She wasn't surprised at all when Rachel didn't go back to Lima over Thanksgiving or Christmas, and she was so damned proud of herself when she managed to visit her in January without getting completely sucked back into her gravity. Maybe she did slip a little on Valentine's Day when she got upset at seeing Rachel with Finn again, but that absolutely wasn't the reason she ended up in bed with Santana. That happened because she was drunk and curious and Santana is hot—even if part of the reason Quinn got drunk in the first place was to help her tolerate the Finchel relapse.

Rachel really had no fucking right to show up in New Haven out of the blue and kiss her _now_.

Quinn really tried to forget about it. She went back to her dorm room and cried out her frustration before calling Santana and screaming at her for being a terrible friend and spilling all of Quinn's well-guarded secrets to Rachel. Then she wandered around campus like a zombie for the rest of the week because she couldn't stop tormenting herself with all the _whys_ and _maybes_ and _what ifs_.

And then Santana proved again that she's a terrible friend—really, she is, there's no other excuse for it—by sending Quinn text after text of things that she really didn't want to know.

_**Berry's spent two days crying. Think I need to build an arc and collect all the strays in the city 2-by-2.**_

_**If I have to see that video of you singing with Trouty Mouth one more time, I'm going Lima Heights on her weepy ass.**_

_**Where in the hell did she get footage of our freshman year National Cheerleading Championship win? You were really rocking that uniform, by the way.**_

_**The crazy woman is writing a song about you. There's a fucking green ribbon of fate in the lyrics. You need to do something before I slap her.**_

_**Oh yeah, you do know that corsage Finnept got you for Junior Prom was totally from Rachel, right?**_

_**Did you know gardenias mean secret love?**_

_**Apparently she asked the moron what it was like to kiss you. Yeah, she's totally not into you at all.**_

_**Be on the lookout for membership information to the Book of the Month club. Your girl is insane.**_

_**Seriously, Q, get your ass to New York and claim your midget.**_

Each message crumbled just a little bit more of the wall that Quinn had erected. She'd been clinging to the idea that Rachel got back on that train to New York, returned to her life and her roommates, and forgot all about Quinn like she seemed to before. Knowing that she didn't—that she was so affected by what happened between them—made it all the more impossible for Quinn to just slip back into her carefree existence at Yale. Apparently, she hasn't moved on quite as successfully as she initially imagined.

The simple truth is that she can't walk away from the possibility of Rachel Berry now that it's been dangled in front of her like the proverbial carrot. She'd rather hit the ground and shatter into unrecognizable pieces than spend the rest of her life gathering dust on the shelf while she wonders what might have been.

So she skipped a few classes—she's pulling a 3.9 average, so she's not too worried about it—and caught the train to New York City, where thanks to some direction from Santana, she soon found herself standing outside of a partially open door at NYADA with a hand pressed over her heart as she realized that Santana hadn't been joking about the song. Despite coming here, despite the kiss that they'd shared on the quad at Yale, Quinn hadn't fully allowed herself to believe that Rachel's feelings could be more than a potent mix of admiration and inexplicable attraction, sparked to life by an unexpected dose of jealousy and regret. She wasn't expecting any deep, heartfelt, musical confessions, but she quickly found herself caught under the spell of Rachel's voice again—this time knowing that she was singing _for Quinn_.

It was intoxicating.

It was enough to have Quinn in Rachel's arms as they exchanged hopeful kisses and the promise of discovering what they can be together.

In all honestly, Quinn still has some doubts that they'll be able to see this thing through without completely destroying one another in the process, but if it comes to that, maybe they'll finally be able to raze the wreckage of possibilities and start rebuilding their separate lives on fresh ground. Of course, it's hard to think about separate _anything _when Rachel currently has her hands all over Quinn's body, lips suckling Quinn's neck, and a very shapely leg draped over Quinn's thigh. If they weren't currently in the back of a taxi cab, speeding toward Bushwick, Quinn might even be reciprocating a little more than the stifled moans that are slipping out into the tiny space against her will. At least they'd opted not to take the subway.

"Rachel, maybe this isn't the best place for this," she attempts, trying to make her own hands push Rachel away instead of holding her closer like they're currently doing.

"Five years," Rachel murmurs against her jaw. "We could have been doing this for five years."

Quinn inhales sharply at the mild scrape of teeth against her skin. She doesn't have the heart to tell Rachel that there's no way in hell they could have done this five years ago because _that _Quinn would have destroyed anyone who would have even dared to suggest that she was remotely attracted to any girl, let alone Rachel Berry. She never would have actually touched Rachel in her hideous animal sweaters and—well, the plaid skirts and knee socks had been perversely enthralling, but Quinn still wouldn't have touched her, not when she'd gone out of her way to cover up what little admiration she might have felt with hateful insults and annoyed glares.

When Rachel finds a particularly sensitive spot behind Quinn's ear, she gasps, silently conceding that they probably could have been doing this for the last two years anyway. As much as she understands wanting to make up for lost time—and boy, does she ever understand—she doesn't want to have sex with Rachel for the first time in the back of a taxi two hours after they'd become kind-of girlfriends.

Quinn's gaze catches the driver's eager eyes in the rearview mirror. "I know we're both studying performance," she tells Rachel, reluctantly shifting away from her on the seat, "but I don't think we want to star in this particular show."

It takes Rachel a few seconds to comprehend what Quinn is telling her before she finally glances at the front of the taxi. She grudgingly removes her hands from Quinn and lets her leg slip back down to a more respectable position as she turns on the seat, glaring at the driver. "Eyes on the road," she bites out. "Do you have any idea how many accidents are caused by distracted driving every year?" Her hand unerringly finds Quinn's on the seat between them and grips tightly. "I have a mind to report you to your supervisor."

The guy scoffs. "Go ahead, lady," he taunts in an unidentifiable accent. "He'd be watching you too."

Rachel looks ready to unleash her indignation, but the guy's eyes are back on the road, and Quinn doesn't feel like getting kicked out onto the street in the middle of Brooklyn, so she tugs Rachel's hand up to her lips and feathers a kiss over her knuckles. The action captures Rachel's attention, and she turns her soft eyes to Quinn. "Let it go," Quinn urges her.

Rachel sighs in resignation and nods, squeezing Quinn's hand as she settles back against the seat and rests her head on Quinn's shoulder. It's such a small gesture, but the effect is has on Quinn is almost as potent as having Rachel in her lap and kissing her. She presses her cheek against the top of Rachel's head and closes her eyes, blocking out the taxi and the driver and anything else but the woman cuddled up next to her. There's a tug in her belly that has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with the realization that she could really do this—be in a serious relationship with a woman and be happy for the world to know about it.

She'd spent the last few months indulging her long suppressed physical urges and continuing to explore her own sexuality, but she hadn't bothered to label it or consider what it might mean when it comes time for her to commit to a future partner. She's a little surprised to discover just how unfazed she is by the idea of being romantically involved with a woman—with _Rachel_—and of dating and coming home to her every night and potentially building a life with her, assuming that they actually manage to avoid imploding first.

It's not very long before they arrive at Rachel's building, and Rachel insists on paying the driver. Quinn is almost certain she doesn't tip him, especially when he calls them "cheap bitches" and takes off with tires squealing and a middle finger aimed out the window. Rachel screams at his retreating taillights that she'll be filing a complaint with his company, but frankly, Quinn is just relieved that he'd only called them _bitches_. He could have said or done much worse, and she finds herself suddenly wondering how Rachel has managed to survive in the city for so long without getting herself into any serious trouble. She says as much, but Rachel only waves her hand dismissively. "I'm a New Yorker now, Quinn. These are my people."

Quinn just rolls her eyes and lets Rachel lead her inside the building and up to the loft. Almost as soon as the door closes, Rachel drops her bag on the floor and tugs Quinn's from her shoulder as well before she pulls her into a passionate kiss. Quinn has no complaints, slipping her arms around Rachel's waist and kissing her back with abandon as they stumble further into the loft, only to be unpleasantly interrupted by Santana's tactless, "Jesus, Quinn. When I told you to claim your midget, I didn't mean I wanted to watch it pay-per-view." Rachel jerks her mouth away from Quinn and glares at Santana, but Santana just ignores her, still addressing Quinn. "Take that shit to a hotel or something. I _know_ you know how," she teases with a wink, giving Quinn a playful slap on the ass as she walks past them on her way to the kitchen.

Rachel is out of Quinn's arms in an instant, vibrating with anger. "I would appreciate it if you'd abstain from putting your grabby hands on any part of my girlfriend!"

Santana stops and slowly turns around with a smirk. "Your girlfriend, huh?" she repeats, crossing her arms as she gives them a measured onceover. "I'd say you work fast," she begins, pausing for effect, "but you don't," she tells them flatly. "At all. The last four years have been like watching some bad sitcom full of lesbian subtext and longing glances that never go anywhere, and frankly, the not-so-big payoff," she waves her hand at Rachel, "is kind of anti-climactic at this point." Her smirk turns decidedly wicked. "But speaking of climaxes…"

"Don't," Quinn warns with a growl as she slides a hand over Rachel's lower back in reassurance. She can feel the tension radiating off of her.

Santana shrugs. "Whatever. Just keep the new season of drama away from me and don't," she points at Rachel in emphasis, "go writing anymore songs about it."

Quinn frowns. She _likes_ that song.

"Why aren't you at work?" Rachel demands as they watch Santana turn and head for the refrigerator, opening it to rummage around inside. "I thought you had a shift this afternoon."

"Called off sick," Santana answers from behind the door.

"You're not sick."

Santana pokes her head up. "So? I can't take a mental health day?"

Quinn chuckles. "Aw, were you waiting up for us to make sure we're okay?"

"Bitch, please," Santana scoffs, twisting open the cap on the bottled water in her hand. "Like I really care if the two of you fucked it up again. I just didn't want to work today," she says with a bored shrug before taking a sip of her water.

"And you're going to hang out here?" Rachel asks sharply.

Santana grins. "Yep."

"All evening?"

Santana rolls her eyes. "Yeah, all evening. It's not like you'd have any privacy anyway. The last member of our incredibly gay trio will be home soon, and you know he'll want all the dirty details. I wasn't kidding about the hotel."

"We don't need one," Quinn informs her. "We're not ready for that yet."

Rachel looks at her uncertainly. "We're not?"

"No," Quinn says slowly, "we're not." However tempting it might be, they'd been together _two hours—_well, two and a half now.

"Oh," Rachel whispers with an almost imperceptible nod and a slightly despondent expression. "Okay."

Quinn sighs. "Rachel…."

"Yeah, there's the drama already," Santana interrupts with a grimace. "I'll just be in my room sexting Dani since it looks like you two won't be getting any for a while."

"Stay on your own bed this time," Rachel snaps.

"No promises," Santana calls back over her shoulder as she walks into the bedroom.

Rachel huffs, pacing over to the sofa to sit down, and Quinn follows her warily. "You didn't bring me back here just for a booty call, did you?" she asks only half-joking. As much as she wants Rachel physically, she wants so much more than sex with her.

Rachel bites into her lip and looks down, curling her fingers around the edge of the cushion. "Of course not," she mumbles. "I just thought," she trails off, shrugging.

Quinn rubs her fingertips over her eyebrow in an attempt to ease the sudden tension there. "Rachel, if we have any hope of actually making this work, we have to talk to one another about what's bothering us. Look what happened when we didn't."

Rachel lifts her eyes to Quinn, gazing at her steadily. Quinn can almost see her internal debate, and she honestly doesn't understand it. "You had sex with Santana," Rachel says lowly.

"Are we doing _this_ again?" Quinn asks incredulously. She'd thought they were past that—well, _mostly_ past it, anyway.

Rachel shakes her head quickly. "I'm not…this isn't me being jealous." Quinn arches an eyebrow, and Rachel sighs. "Okay, so maybe it is a little," she admits, glancing away again. "You…you've been with other women. Gorgeous, sexy women, and I'm," she pauses, sighing raggedly before she looks at Quinn again. "I don't have a lot of experience, Quinn…not like…like Santana or those girls at Yale. I'm already nervous that I'll disappoint you, and when you said we weren't ready," she puffs out a frustrated breath. "You seemed ready enough with them, so if you're having second thoughts about being with me sexually, you should just tell me."

"Are you serious?" Quinn grits out, instantly regretting her less than sympathetic tone when she sees Rachel's face fall.

"You said we should be honest about how we're feeling," Rachel fires back, "and I'm feeling a little insecure about our potential lovemaking."

Quinn supposes that she can't really fault Rachel for that. After all, she's still feeling a little insecure about the whole Finn thing coming back to bite her in the ass one day. She decides to save that conversation for another time and reaches for Rachel's hand instead.

"Rachel, I want you. All of you, including the crazy, insecure bits," Quinn tells her honestly, grinning a little when Rachel frowns at the last part. "But you're right…you're not like the other girls, although there really haven't been that many," she assures her—Santana and a couple of girls at Yale, even if her roommates might think otherwise. Really, she does have some actual _friends_ that she spends time with too. It's just that since she started exploring her inclinations, some people suddenly think that she's sleeping with every girl she talks to. "I wasn't interested in a relationship with them, but I want one with you. I want _everything_ with you, but I'd kind of like us to take our time and do this the right way."

Rachel smiles at her then—that soft, sweet smile that Quinn loves to see. "I want everything with you too," she says, making Quinn's heart soar. "Including the naked bits," she adds with a grin, and Quinn feels her cheeks heat despite her supposed experience. Rachel leans in and brushes her lips over Quinn's. "And I plan to woo you thoroughly."

The idea of being wooed by Rachel is as thrilling as it is terrifying—it is _Rachel_, after all. Quinn has no idea what to expect, so she kisses Rachel again and falls headfirst into her future.

_xx_

That first long weekend together—in between Kurt digging for details that are none of his business and Santana making too many inappropriate comments—sees Rachel buying Quinn dinner at a cozy little Italian place, taking her to see _Once_ at the Bernard B. Jacobs Theatre, and holding her hand on a stroll through Central Park. Quinn loves every cheesy moment of it.

She doesn't particularly love the close quarters with Santana, despite the makeshift privacy curtain in their "shared" bedroom that really doesn't live up to its name in the slightest. Quinn supposes the awkwardness is to be expected when you've had sex with one friend who happens to be the roommate of the mutual friend that you're now dating. She isn't particularly enthralled with Rachel's lingering jealousy over what amounts to a one night stand, but then Santana always manages to push all the wrong buttons. None of it stops Quinn from enjoying those moments in Rachel's bed, however chaste they're forced to be thanks to two nosy roommates and those damned curtains for walls. She's never considered herself to be much of a cuddler, but the way her body curls around Rachel is so perfectly natural, and she's never slept as soundly as she does on those too-brief nights. Going back to New Haven on Sunday night feels like being torn out of an exquisite dream.

Rachel wants to come to Yale the next weekend, but she's kept in the city by her schedule at the restaurant and a rehearsal for a dramatic reading that counts for fifty percent of her grade in her drama class. Quinn really needs to finish a term paper anyway, so she pushes down the disappointment she feels at not seeing Rachel in person. It helps that neither the distance nor the workload deters Rachel from her wooing. Every day, Quinn wakes up to a new text message with a photo attachment of poetry and lyrics flowing across the screen in Rachel's handwriting. And every night, after talking to her girlfriend on Skype, Quinn falls asleep to the sweet sound of Rachel's voice singing to her from her very own, personalized, Rachel Berry playlist that Rachel had recorded on her SoundCloud account just for Quinn.

By Sunday morning, Quinn is about two thousand words away from being finished with her paper on the influence of Greek mythology on modern drama when her roommate's voice breaks into her thoughts with a shrill, "Quinn, one of your girls is here."

Quinn growls—she really wishes Jackie would stop saying things like that, especially loud enough for the entire floor to hear. No wonder she's gotten a reputation around the dorm. And anyway, Quinn has only had one strictly platonic friend over for a study session since she started dating Rachel.

"Damn it, Jackie. I told you I'm busy," she snaps as she pads out of her bedroom. "I don't have the time or…" Her words trail off in surprise when she sees Rachel standing in the middle of the room with a single, red rose and a small overnight bag. She smiles widely, quickly crossing the room to cup Rachel's cheek and brush a chaste kiss across her lips. "What are you doing here?" she asks in happy confusion. "I thought you were stuck in New York this weekend."

Rachel nervously runs her tongue across her lip, darting her eyes over to Quinn's roommate. "I…I thought I'd surprise you." She manages a grin, offering Quinn the rose that she's holding. "Surprise."

Quinn's smile gets even bigger as she accepts the bud and holds it to her nose, inhaling the scent. "It's a really nice surprise," she murmurs.

"Please don't tell me she's staying here now," Jackie whines.

Quinn shoots her a glare and hisses a low, "Shut up," before she grabs Rachel's hand and pulls her through the common room and into her bedroom, firmly shutting the door behind them. She wastes no time trapping Rachel against the door with her body and thoroughly kissing her. Rachel's bag slides to the floor with a dull thud, and her hands slip around Quinn's waist, spilling warmth from her palms into the skin beneath Quinn's thin t-shirt. She hadn't realized exactly how much she's been missing this—missing _Rachel_—until right now.

The way her body is responding makes her wonder why she'd ever suggested that they take the physical side of their relationship slowly, especially when Rachel has been so incredibly good at the wooing. Quinn gave up her virginity for much less than this, and no one else that she's dated (or _not_ dated) has come close to making her feel as special, as cared for, as _loved_ as Rachel has managed to do in such a short time.

Quinn gentles the kiss, catching Rachel's lower lip between her own and suckling it a bit before she lets go and leans back just enough to grin at her girlfriend. "Hi," she murmurs playfully.

Rachel's eyelids flutter, and she exhales shakily. "Hi," she echoes back with an endearingly dreamy smile as she tries to tug Quinn's body closer—a feat that just isn't physically possible at this point. Their legs are tangled together, and Quinn is pinning Rachel to the door from hips to breasts. It feels amazing.

"I can't believe you're here," Quinn tells her, capturing a lock of brown hair between her fingers and playing with the silky curl. She likes it when Rachel doesn't completely straighten it. "I thought you had to work all weekend."

"The rehearsal went really well yesterday, so my scene partner agreed that we didn't need to meet again today, and I bribed Santana into taking my shift at the restaurant tonight."

Quinn quirks an eyebrow—she's not sure she wants to know what Rachel had to do to get Santana to work for her. "So we have the rest of the day?"

"And the night," Rachel adds suggestively, slipping one hand under Quinn's shirt.

Quinn shivers in pleasure at all the possibilities, but they have plenty of time. She pecks Rachel's lips once more before she pushes herself off the door, ignoring Rachel's whine of protest. "As tempting as it is to spend all that time right here doing this," she purrs, catching Rachel's wandering hand in her own, "you're in my town now, and I want to show you around a bit before we do…other things," she promises seductively before she steps away to gently lay the rose across her desk.

It has one of those little water tubes attached to the end of the stem, so she isn't overly concerned with finding a vase for it right now. She idly wonders if Rachel somehow managed to find an open flower shop between the train station and the dorm or if she brought it with her all the way from New York. Most of the shops around Yale are closed on Sundays, and Quinn smiles softly at the image of Rachel protectively holding the rose through the two hour train ride.

Rachel pouts a little at the loss of proximity to Quinn. "This really isn't my first time here," she argues weakly.

Quinn shakes her head. "Are you really going to count your last visit as discovering New Haven?" she asks mildly. Unless Rachel had wandered around after they parted the last time, Quinn is guessing that she didn't see much more than the train station, Quinn's dorm, and the quad.

"I certainly got an eyeful of some things," Rachel grumbles under her breath.

Quinn rolls her eyes at the unsubtle reference to her state of undress and the equally naked girl that she'd had in her bed at Rachel's first visit to Yale. "I seem to recall that you took your sweet time enjoying at least half of that view before you looked away, and if you want to see it again anytime soon, you need to stop obsessing about things that happened before we were together," she warns, attempting to ease the sting of her words by catching Rachel's hand again and pulling her closer.

"I'm hardly obsessing," Rachel denies petulantly. "If I was, I'd be insisting that you take me to a hotel rather than sharing the bed you've already shared with at least one other woman." Her eyes widen. "You _have_ changed the sheets, haven't you?"

"Don't be gross," Quinn chastises. "Of course I have." Well, it's been about a week, but she's the only person who's been sleeping in them. She was actually planning on doing some laundry later today.

"You're lying," Rachel accuses knowingly.

"No, I'm not," Quinn denies, "but it wouldn't hurt to put on a fresh set. You didn't exactly warn me you'd be coming."

Rachel grins slyly, stepping closer to Quinn and brushing against her body. "I hope to be coming often."

Quinn nearly chokes on her own saliva at the blatant innuendo. "Rachel," she gasps. "When did your mind dive into the gutter?"

"Probably sometime after I inadvertently saw you naked," Rachel admits with a shrug. "Also, I've been living with Santana for that last two months, and she's very skilled at making even the most innocent things into some kind of sexual innuendo."

"That's not exactly a habit that you should be proud of picking up," Quinn tells her with a chuckle.

"It does have its perks," Rachel insists, grinning as she slides her arms further around Quinn's waist and curls her palms over the curve of her backside.

"You're ridiculous."

Rachel's grin slips slightly. "Oh?"

"But adorable," Quinn sighs, brushing a kiss over Rachel's lips that quickly morphs from innocent to pure temptation when Rachel's mouth opens beneath hers and invites her inside. Rachel's fingers curl into her ass, and Quinn moans softly into the kiss, all too aware of how thin her clothes are, how hot she is, and how she isn't wearing a bra. Rachel probably feels _everything_, and her bed is _right there_.

_When did I become such a horndog? _Quinn wonders before she forces herself to behave, pulling back from their kiss to admire the dazed expression on Rachel's face. She suspects it's probably an exact reflection of her own.

"Keep kissing me like that, and we're skipping that tour," Rachel husks, leaning her weight into Quinn.

"How quiet can you be?" Quinn asks playfully. "Because Marisa shouldn't be back until tomorrow morning, but I don't think Jackie is going anywhere."

Rachel groans, dropping her head onto Quinn's shoulder. "She's very unpleasant."

Quinn laughs. "I should probably warn you that Jackie is actually the nice one."

Rachel's head pops up. "You're joking." Quinn shakes her head to indicate that she isn't. Jackie is sarcastic and occasionally bitchy, but she's actually a decent person underneath her bark. Quinn isn't so certain the same can be said of Marisa. "Well, that's awful."

"Jackie isn't so bad," Quinn defends. "She just doesn't like having guests in the room."

"And you've had a lot of those," Rachel deduces with a resigned nod.

"Not _that_ many,' Quinn reiterates. "And none before this term."

"B.S.," Rachel mutters.

Quinn frowns. "Excuse me?"

"Before Santana," Rachel clarifies.

"Oh," Quinn breathes, smiling a little at Rachel's choice of acronym. "Well, yeah." She shrugs. "Jackie will just have to get used to you being around more often, and Marisa," she trails off, grimacing slightly. "We'll just try to avoid her for the next month." Luckily, Quinn and Jackie have already found more agreeable roommates for next year, and Marisa is just as eager to be away from them.

"This would all be so much easier if you'd chosen a school in New York," Rachel grumbles impishly, slipping her fingers under the hem of Quinn's shirt again to play against the sensitive skin on her lower back. "I don't suppose you'd consider transferring next year."

Quinn smiles sweetly. "Not a chance." She drops a quick kiss to the tip of Rachel's nose. "You'll just have to use those train tickets this time. Now," she says, once again redirecting Rachel's persistent hands to safer places, "give me ten minutes to change into something more flattering, and then I'm taking you out for an amazing brunch."

"I think what you're wearing right now is incredibly flattering," Rachel drawls with dark eyes traveling a slow, appreciative path over Quinn's body.

Quinn glances down at herself skeptically, and—yeah, the lack of a bra is most definitely noticeable. She arches an eyebrow at Rachel. "I'm sure half of New Haven will agree with you."

Rachel's grin fades. "On second thought, a different shirt would probably be advisable."

"You think?" Quinn prods good-naturedly, grabbing Rachel's bag from in front of her door and moving it over beside her bed before she pads to her dresser and pulls out a bra. She tosses it on top of her mattress and begins to shift through her clothes for a more appropriate shirt. When she looks back over her shoulder, Rachel is still standing where Quinn left her, practically bouncing on her toes with her lip caught between her teeth and eyes glittering as she watches Quinn's every move. Quinn chuckles, arching an eyebrow. "You know, I don't really have an issue with stripping in front of you, but I have a feeling that we won't make it out of this room if I do."

Rachel's eyes widen, and she stumbles back a step, flushing pink. "I…I wasn't," she stutters, shaking her head. "I'll just…wait out there," she points to the door with a determined nod. "Yeah," she whispers to herself, spinning on her heel and making her way out to the sound of Quinn's quiet laughter.

She doesn't want to leave Rachel out in the common room with Jackie for too long, so she changes quickly, opting for a pair of tan Capris and a respectable blue button down. She pulls out her ponytail and runs a brush through her hair, trying her best to fluff it before she finally gives up. Sometimes she misses the short hair, and she's seriously thinking about giving it another try.

When she exits her room, Quinn finds Rachel sitting stiffly on the chair, and she casts a suspicious gaze to Jackie, who's lounging in her usual position on their small loveseat with her legs hanging over the armrest and her laptop on her stomach. "How rude was she?" she asks Rachel cautiously.

"Hey," Jackie interjects, turning her head in Quinn's direction. "I've been on my best behavior here."

"Why don't I believe you?"

Jackie shrugs. "I might have expressed my surprise to see her come out of your room so soon, fully dressed and barely mussed at all. You must be losing your touch, Fabray."

"Stop implying that I'm some kind of player," Quinn growls, sending Rachel an apologetic look. She silently mouths, _I'm sorry_, and Rachel forces a thin smile as she stands up, obviously ready to leave.

Jackie rolls her eyes. "Oh, please. She obviously knows the score already, and she still came back." She glances in Rachel's direction with a smirk. "You must actually like her or something," she says to Rachel.

Rachel relaxes a little. "Very much," she confirms, reaching out to entwine her fingers with Quinn's. Quinn links their hands together and grins sappily at her girlfriend as she realizes that Jackie is right—Rachel knows all of her faults and she's still here.

"I guess that means she's staying," Jackie grumbles resignedly, "and I'll be crashing in Sydney's room tonight."

"You don't have to do that," Quinn offers unenthusiastically. She'd love for them to have the whole suite to themselves tonight, but she hates putting Jackie out of her own room. Unlike Rachel, Quinn actually has a door that closes and locks.

Jackie gives Rachel another onceover. "Somehow I don't think you'll be very quiet, and I have an early class tomorrow. Just give me an hour to finish my Econ."

Quinn smiles, relieved at her willingness to give them some much desired privacy. "Take your time. We're going to grab some food and walk around campus for a while."

Jackie grunts in acknowledgement and shoos them away, and Quinn thanks her before she leads Rachel out of the room. "See. Not so bad," Quinn tells her. "Just bitchy."

"She reminds me of Santana," Rachel mutters with a slight frown.

"I guess they do have some similar traits," Quinn concedes, "but at least we can trust Jackie not to rifle through our personal belonging while we're out."

Rachel hums thoughtfully. "In that case, I think I like her better than Santana already."

Quinn laughs, holding Rachel's hand more firmly as they make their way out of Bingham Hall and into the gorgeous spring afternoon. The sun is shining, and there are a number of students in the quad—some camped out under the trees or tossing around balls and Frisbees, others just strolling hand-in-hand. A few heads turn in their direction, but Quinn ignores them. She's too busy enjoying Rachel and the way she leans into Quinn just a little as they walk.

It's a short distance from Quinn's dorm to Claire's Corner Copia, and Rachel's eyes light up when she sees the painted signage on the green trim of the building that announces the restaurant as vegetarian. "They have more than few vegan options too," Quinn tells her. Rachel stops them on the corner and kisses her right in front of the little café tables that line the sidewalk. Quinn barely hesitates at all before she reciprocates.

When they'd gone to dinner in New York, she'd learned that Rachel isn't strictly vegan these days thanks to her hectic class schedule, her unhelpful roommates and their fondness for pizza, and the amazing garden cheeseburger that they serve at the Spotlight Diner, but she still prefers to adhere to her diet as much as possible. They look over the breakfast menu, which they still technically qualify for by about fifteen minutes, and Rachel debates about the tofu scramble before ultimately deciding on the vegan whole wheat pancakes that Claire's only serves on weekends. Rachel is so tickled that everything on the menu is organic, including the eggs, that she doesn't even say a word when Quinn chooses the omelet and finishes every bite.

Most of the shops and boutiques on Chapel Street are closed today, but that doesn't lessen the charm and beauty of the historic district. Quinn plans to give Rachel the full experience next time she visits, but for now, she decides to show Rachel more of the campus. They stroll up College Street between Old Campus and the New Haven Green before they duck back through the quad, enjoying the day and one another, while Quinn shares some of the history of the town and the different colleges that make up Yale.

Eventually, their meandering in and out of buildings takes them back to Chapel Street across from the Atticus Bookstore Café. Rachel knows Quinn too well, and she knowingly suggests that they go in and browse the shelves for a bit. Quinn resists the temptation to pick up a new book, even though Rachel offers to buy her one several times. Somehow, they manage to waste nearly an hour inside the store, and they're far enough removed from their delicious brunch to make the freshly baked raspberry pie in the café look pretty irresistible.

The Yale University Art Gallery is just down the block, and Quinn points it out to Rachel after they leave the bookstore. "Do you want to go in? There's a new photography exhibit called _Jazz Lives _that I think you'd like."

"Have you already seen it?" Rachel asks.

Quinn shakes her head. "It just started last week." She's been to the gallery a few times since she'd arrived in New Haven, but between the weather, her studies, and the number of trips she'd taken to both Lima and New York, she hasn't had time to browse the exhibits in the last several months.

Rachel grins, nodding her agreement. "Let's go then."

They're only inside the museum for about ten minutes, gradually making their way to the photography exhibition, when the infectious sound of jazz music fills the building. Rachel looks at Quinn in confusion, and Quinn shrugs. "I think I remember reading that there would be some faculty and student performances during the exhibition."

It's enough to double Rachel's interest, and she grabs Quinn's hand to unerringly tug her toward the source of the music. There's a small jazz band set up in the middle of the exhibition room—a guitar, standup bass, keyboard, trumpet, saxophone, and drumset stripped down to its snare, bass, high-hat, and cymbal—with a crowd of museum-goers steadily gathering around them. Some are enjoying the photographs as they listen to the music, but most are just watching the band perform. Rachel drags Quinn to a spot near the front of the small crowd, smiling widely as she curls into Quinn's side to enjoy the music.

When the band starts to play "As Time Goes By," Rachel turns further into Quinn's body and begins to quietly sing along with the muted trumpet.

"_You must remember this, a kiss is just a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh.  
__The fundamental things apply, as time goes by.  
__And when two lovers woo, they still say 'I love you.' On that you can rely.  
__No matter what the future brings, as time goes by.¹"_

Quinn really shouldn't be surprised by it. The one thing that the band doesn't have is a singer, and she knows that Rachel simply can't help herself. She's a little embarrassed by the impromptu serenade, but she also kind of loves it—though a little less so when she notices the guitarist walk over to the bass player and say something before nodding in their direction. Quinn blushes hotly, wondering if she should try to pull Rachel out of there before they get kicked out for ruining the performance.

Just as the song ends, the guitarist comes over to them with a curious smile. "Hey, we're doing "Georgia On My Mind" next," he tells them with his eyes focused on Rachel. "You don't happen to know the words to that one too?"

Rachel grins almost manically, and Quinn groans. "You have no idea what you just did," she tells him.

The guy looks confused, but Rachel is already slipping out of Quinn's arms. "I'll be right back," she promises, giving Quinn a quick peck on the cheek before she practically drags the guy back to his bandmates.

After a brief consultation, the guitarist introduces Rachel as their impromptu guest vocalist to mild applause, and then Rachel does what Rachel does best—makes the entire room fall in love with her. Her eyes keep coming back to Quinn as she sings, and Quinn presses a hand over her heart, realizing with a start that she isn't falling anymore. She's already down for the count, and she can only pray that Rachel is right there with her.

When the song ends, Rachel takes her time basking in the (now fervent) applause. Quinn chuckles indulgently, shaking her head as she watches her girlfriend take another bow. Rachel thanks the band and steps back to Quinn while they slide into another instrumental number.

"You amaze me," Quinn murmurs, taking both of Rachel's hands in hers.

"The feeling is entirely mutual."

Quinn laughs. "You're the one who just wowed an audience on the fly. And this isn't even the first time I've seen you do it."

Rachel shrugs. "Well, I'm obviously incredibly talented."

"And so modest too," Quinn comments dryly.

Rachel squeezes her hands. "But you like that about me," she points out. "You've always encouraged me to be proud of my ambition and to go after what I want. That's why _you_ amaze _me_, and I'm so very lucky to have you."

Quinn really wishes they were alone right now so she could show Rachel just how much she likes her, but, "We should actually look at the photographs before we leave."

"Mmmhmm," Rachel hums in agreement, rocking up on her toes to place a soft kiss to Quinn's lips.

"Or not," Quinn whispers, feeling Rachel smile against her mouth before kissing her again.

They do actually take a quick stroll around the exhibit, admiring the photographs as they dodge the bodies that have crammed into the space. Rachel's hand is warm inside of hers, and every time they stop to look at something, Rachel presses into her side and trails the fingertips of her free hand along Quinn's arm. Quinn abandons her plan to show Rachel the rest of the gallery, and they're definitely not making it over to the School of Drama today.

The walk back to Bingham only takes about five minutes, and Quinn can't concentrate on anything but Rachel and the way their arms brush together as their footsteps fall in a perfectly matched rhythm. The dorm is relatively quiet when they get back. Quinn has noticed that it gets this way sometimes on Sunday afternoons. On days like today when the weather is perfect, so many students are outside enjoying the fresh air while others hang out in the student lounges or suites watching whatever sport is in season—there always seems to be a game of some kind being televised—and some are busy cramming a week's worth of studying and completing assignments into the last few hours of the weekend.

When they reach the room, Quinn manages to find her key and slide it into the lock, despite being distracted by Rachel's arms slipping around her waist and the warm lips pressed against her jaw. She moans softly as she twists the doorknob open and pulls her girlfriend inside. The room is dark and quiet, and it's all Quinn needs to see before she turns and kisses Rachel the way she's been wanting to for the last hour—the last week, the last lifetime.

Rachel's lips instantly part beneath hers, and her hands once again slip beneath the fabric of Quinn's shirt to trace greedy patterns over the skin they find. The pleasant thrum of arousal that's been teasing Quinn all day builds to a crescendo, and she tugs Rachel's hips into hers as she deepens the kiss, reveling in the heat that seeps through layers of clothing to engulf them. She loves the way Rachel responds to her—open and willing with a hint of boldness. It isn't a battle for dominance so much as tactical exchange of advantage, every move and countermove designed to push them both further to surrender.

It's only the growing need for oxygen that forces their mouths to part. Quinn rests her forehead against Rachel's and grins at the sight of dark, heavy-lidded eyes that gaze back at her with longing. "So, what do you want to do now?" she teases.

"I thought that was rather obvious," Rachel husks before she tilts her head slightly and catches Quinn's lips again in an attempt to steal what's left of her breath.

Quinn's hands slide from Rachel's hips to her ass as she moans into the kiss. She's only very recently figured out what the fuss is about sex, having more or less gone through the motions with her boyfriends in high school because it's what was expected of her, and with Rachel, every one of her physical reactions is multiplied by the emotional attachment that's getting stronger every day—which is exactly why she doesn't want to screw this up.

"We don't have to rush this?" She knows that neither of them is anything close to a virgin anymore, but that doesn't mean they have to be ready for sex a week into their relationship. She needs to make sure that Rachel really wants this because she _wants Quinn_ and not because she's in some weird, imaginary competition with Quinn's past partners. "We can move at whatever pace we're both comfortable with. If you just want to kiss and cuddle all night, then that's what we'll do."

"Oh, I want that, too," Rachel admits before she ghosts her lips over the cleft in Quinn's chin. "I want _everything_, Quinn. I just want to be close to you."

Quinn curls her palms around Rachel's firm backside, pulling her even closer. "We're close right now," she points out with a playful smirk.

Rachel groans and lightly scratches her nails over Quinn's back. "Closer," she whispers. "In _every_ way."

It's all Quinn really needs to hear. She's been wooed and romanced into complete surrender, and she only wants to be as close to her girlfriend as possible. "I'd like that," she murmurs before kissing Rachel again.

Their hands catch as they part, both needing to stay connected in some way as Quinn leads Rachel into her room. She pauses to switch on the lamp and feels Rachel's fingers tighten around hers.

"Oh. Could we…leave it off?" Rachel asks haltingly.

"Are you getting shy on me all of a sudden?" Quinn wonders with a breathy chuckle, but her amusement fades instantly when she notices Rachel's downcast eyes. She squeezes Rachel's hand, silently urging her to voice whatever is suddenly bothering her, and there's a little moment of fear that maybe she doesn't want a clear view of the faint scars on Quinn's back and side that she has to have felt under her touch.

Rachel shakes her head. "I just…it's always been dark...when I've done this," she confesses, still not quite meeting Quinn's eyes.

The blind on Quinn's small window is closed, and the afternoon sun has shifted enough to cast the room mostly in shadows, but it's not what Quinn would consider _dark_ by any means. She doesn't really care one way or the other about the lights, but Rachel's confession and her sudden nervousness give her pause. "Rachel, if you're having doubts," she begins supportively, only to be quickly interrupted.

"No. I'm not," Rachel rushes out. "There are absolutely no doubts whatsoever. If you want the light on and the blind open, then," she purses her lips, nodding determinedly, "that's what we'll do."

Quinn studies her girlfriend carefully. She'd never considered that Rachel might be self-conscious about her body, because she _really_ has nothing to worry about on that front. She silently curses herself for all those derogatory names and pornographic drawings (that make a lot more sense to both of them now) even though she's apologized for them on many occasions over the last three years.

"You're gorgeous, you know," she says sincerely, lifting a hand to lovingly caress Rachel's cheek. "Absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful. And I can't wait to see all of you, but if you're more comfortable with the light out, then I'm okay with that." She considers for a moment that it might actually be better for both of them. It's only been very recently that Quinn has started to feel confident enough in her own body to let anyone other than her doctors and her mother see her scars, and the few that have until now haven't really taken the time to look any deeper than the heat of momentary passion. She already knows that Rachel will be different.

Rachel smiles softly, drawing Quinn close for a sweet kiss before she steps away and deliberately reaches over to turn on the lamp. "The blind is staying closed though," she clarifies.

Quinn smiles. "That's probably a good idea. There are a few science majors with telescopes in the buildings across the quad."

She laughs when Rachel makes a disgusted face, but then she leans forward and kisses her again, and everything else is forgotten. It doesn't take much for Rachel to lose the odd traces of hesitancy, and she throws herself back into their kiss with single-minded passion. In fact, the throwing is almost literal enough to send Quinn stumbling back a few steps when Rachel pushes forward in an attempt to get closer. Her butt hits the dresser hard enough to knock over a framed picture of the New Directions gathered around their Nationals trophy and send the curling iron that had been half-hanging over the edge crashing to the floor. "Sorry," Rachel mumbles sheepishly.

"It's fine," Quinn dismisses, looping her arms around Rachel's waist and fusing their mouths back together. She steps away from the dresser, carefully guiding Rachel back through the small space of her room toward the bed.

It's not really very far, but unfortunately, Quinn forgets about Rachel's overnight bag that's sitting on the floor until Rachel's foot catches it, causing her lose her balance. She squeals and scrambles to regain her footing, but they're already close enough to the bed that her leg hits the edge of the mattress, and she falls back on top of it, pulling Quinn with her. Quinn manages to catch herself awkwardly with one hand on the way down, still gripping Rachel's waist in a sad attempt to keep her head from slamming into the wall next to the bed. Luckily, Rachel is just agile enough to jam her elbow into the mattress to stop from tipping back too far. Quinn isn't quite so agile, and she hisses out a pained, "Fuck," when her knee hits the bedframe.

They come to rest with Rachel sprawled across the mattress, leaning on one elbow with wide eyes and pinning Quinn's left arm beneath her backside. Quinn is half-kneeling against the frame with her torso bent over the bed, gritting her teeth and breathing erratically.

"Oh my God," Rachel squeaks. "Are you okay?" she asks desperately, attempting to check Quinn over for injuries with her free hand. The whole thing is so ridiculous that Quinn can't help laughing, collapsing the rest of the way down and pressing her face into Rachel's belly as she tries to regain her composure. "Can I take that as a _yes_?" Rachel asks flatly as she tenderly slips her fingers through Quinn's hair.

Quinn nods against her, sucking in a few ragged, giggling breaths before she lifts her head to take in Rachel's flushed cheeks. "Yeah," she manages with a grin, pulling herself up and over Rachel's body before she stops to kiss her shoulder. "Are you?" she asks, brushing her lips over the fluttering pulse in Rachel's neck and quickly giving into the urge to open her mouth and suckle.

A soft moan tickles Quinn's ear. "Y-yes," Rachel hisses, letting her head tip back as she shifts restlessly beneath Quinn.

Quinn hums her approval against Rachel's skin, loving the taste of her, the sounds she makes, and way she moves against her. They're not exactly in the best position, sideways across the mattress, so Quinn does a little shifting of her own, ignoring the dull throb in her knee as she maneuvers them around on the bed. She fully settles on top of Rachel's warm, pliant body until they're pressed together in all the right ways. Quinn spends more time focused on the spot on Rachel's neck, alternating between sucking and licking in a not-so-secret desire to mark her, while Rachel alternates between clenching her fingers in Quinn's hair and tugging at her shirt in a feeble attempt to drag it up Quinn's back.

Meanwhile, Quinn is far more productive in exposing Rachel's skin to her own touch, having already inched her shirt up. She slips her fingers beneath the lacy black bra she finds and traces the curve of a breast before sliding the pads of her fingers over a peaked nipple. Rachel's hips jerk up hard in response and a particularly guttural moan tears from her throat. Quinn smiles against her skin before seeking out Rachel's mouth in a searing kiss.

She really could be happy just doing this for a few hours—lying here with Rachel while they kiss and slowly explore one another's bodies. The ache of arousal grows stronger with every touch, but Quinn is far more captivated with the journey than the ultimate destination. She wants to make this experience last, burn every second into her memory so that she can cherish it forever.

Rachel's hands abandon Quinn's back and squeeze between their bodies instead, fingers fumbling clumsily with the buttons of her shirt. She returns Quinn's kisses with increasing ardor while she works at undressing her, but their current position and Quinn's preoccupation with the nipple between her fingers impedes Rachel's progress. She tears her mouth away from Quinn's with a frustrated growl, tipping her chin down and frowning in concentration while she yanks at Quinn's shirt. "Could you…maybe…help me get this off?" she mutters breathlessly.

Quinn manages a distracted, "Uh huh," as she reluctantly pulls her hand free of its soft, warm home on Rachel's perfect breast and pushes up on her forearm to create some space between their bodies. Rachel takes immediate advantage, finally popping the last two buttons free with a cute, little grunt of victory. She grips the edges of the fabric and pulls them apart, roughly pushing the shirt off Quinn's shoulders. Quinn tries to shrug out of the material gracefully, but her precarious balance clashes with Rachel's eagerness to strip her naked, and she winds up collapsing back on top of Rachel with one arm trapped in her sleeve behind her back.

"Sorry," Rachel mutters with a chagrined expression, going completely motionless beneath her.

Quinn shakes her head, puffing out a giggling breath, and grins at her girlfriend. "Just…hold on for a minute," she instructs good-humoredly, shifting to her right and letting the material slacken until she can tug her arm free. Once that's done, she pushes herself up into a kneeling position, straddling Rachel's thigh as she lets the other half of her shirt slide free before tossing it to the floor. She doesn't miss the way Rachel's gaze dips down and her tongue runs over her lips, so she decides not to play coy and reaches for the clasp of her bra, twisting it open and letting it fall to the floor along with her shirt.

Rachel inhales sharply as her eyes race over Quinn's naked torso. Her hands come up to Quinn's waist before they begin to trace indecipherable patterns over her skin—every stretch mark, scar, and imperfection. Quinn's stomach does an unexpected somersault at the reverence of Rachel's touch and the glistening seriousness in her steady gaze, and she has to take a second to find her breath again. She's been naked in front of people before, but it's never felt quite this heavy with meaning.

"Grossed out?" Quinn asks with forced lightness, hoping that Rachel doesn't hear the slight tremor in her voice that betrays her lingering insecurity.

"God, no," Rachel denies immediately. "You're _beautiful_."

Quinn's mouth quirks into a wry smile. "Scars and all?"

"They're barely even noticeable," Rachel promises, though her fingers are currently stroking back and forth over the puckered edge of what's probably the worst one—where the buckled, jagged metal of Quinn's car door had cut into her side, breaking her ribs and barely missing her lung. Quinn has made it a point to keep several pairs of wandering hands from lingering over that spot in the last year, but she doesn't make a move to stop Rachel.

"I guess I was lucky," Quinn murmurs.

She watches the muscles of Rachel's throat jump as she swallows heavily. "I think I'm the one that's lucky," she whispers, "because you're here now, and I have you."

Quinn's breath hitches again, and she feels a flutter in her stomach that has nothing to do with nerves. She does catch Rachel's hands then, removing them from her body and pinning them to the mattress over her head as she leans down and kisses her. Rachel's mouth opens to greet her, and Quinn drags her hands down Rachel's arms, ghosting over her sides to grip her bunched shirt and push it up. She breaks the kiss just long enough to pull the material over Rachel's head, pleased when it comes free without incident, and then their lips and tongues are dancing together once again. Quinn frees Rachel's poor, suffocated breasts from their imprisonment, and Rachel's arms immediately rebound onto Quinn's body, stroking a greedy path over her naked curves. Quinn lies back down, aligning their bodies again and moaning in appreciation when her breasts press against Rachel's.

She loses track of time for a while after that, completely engrossed in the feel and taste of her girlfriend and the way her own body reacts to Rachel's feverish exploration. Rachel loses her skirt without any resistance, and then Quinn loses track of where they are on the bed, forgetting how small it is until Rachel is urging her to roll over and she nearly falls over the edge. She catches herself just in time, and Rachel's arms tighten around her. "Beds this size should be outlawed," she grumbles, maneuvering Quinn back to the middle. Quinn only laughs, pulling Rachel down for another kiss.

Rachel has better luck getting Quinn out of her pants than she'd had with the shirt, which doesn't really say very much, but no one falls off the bed and no one gets kicked in the face, so Quinn counts it as a success. She tries not to giggle at Rachel's obvious annoyance with the number of minor snafus that they've encountered since they began, but she honestly thinks it's funny and kind of adorable, and she's really never felt comfortable enough with anyone else to just relax and go with the flow this way. "Come here," she urges, beckoning her girlfriend with a crooked finger and a wicked smirk.

"So beautiful," Rachel murmurs in quiet awe before dipping down to kiss her again. Her body blankets Quinn, spilling heat across her skin and into her blood. Quinn can feel how aroused Rachel is, and it thrills her to know that they're in this together. She'd been content enough to take her time and enjoy the slow slide into pleasure, but Rachel is far less patient, and her mouth starts a resolute journey down to Quinn's breasts, barely skimming the upper swells before her lips capture a turgid nipple.

Quinn moans in approval, arching into that talented mouth. Rachel's teeth graze against her sensitive flesh, and Quinn hisses, but then Rachel is soothing the sting with her hot tongue before turning the same attention to Quinn's other breast. "Mmm. That feels so good," she murmurs, closing her eyes and threading her fingers into dark, silky hair as her hips rotate in shallow circles against Rachel's thigh. She falls further into the sensations that Rachel is creating within her right up until the moment that another particularly sharp bite to her nipple makes her flinch. "Ow, hey," she grumbles, tugging lightly at Rachel's hair.

Rachel stops what she's doing and stutters out a meek, "S-sorry."

"It's okay. Just maybe less teeth," Quinn suggests, smiling down at her. "I'm not really that into biting, especially there."

Rachel purses her lips and nods. "Okay," she agrees quietly, taking a noticeable breath before returning her mouth to Quinn's breast—tentative until she hears Quinn's soft moans reward every brush of her lips and stroke of her tongue.

Quinn needs to be touching Rachel too—needs to hear those amazing little noises of pleasure that she makes—so she works one hand down to cup Rachel's left breast, rolling the beaded nipple between her fingers, while she shifts enough to lift a thigh and press it to Rachel's wet center. She feels Rachel shudder against her at the action, and her teeth graze Quinn's nipple again, but Quinn doesn't care quite as much because Rachel is moaning in pleasure, and it's the sexiest sound she's ever heard.

Rachel arches her back and rolls her hips against Quinn, releasing another sensual groan as her eyelids flutter, and Quinn feels a corresponding tug in her belly. "Kiss me," she demands, needing to taste those perfect lips right now. Rachel rocks into her again, but her mouth is back over Quinn's without hesitation, leaving them both breathless in the best way possible.

Rachel's body settles firmly over Quinn, and her hand slips between them to seek out Quinn's center as they continue to exchange deep kisses. Her fingers glide through the slickness between Quinn's legs before pressing against her clit. Quinn's hips jerk, and she groans, but then Rachel's fingers slip away from that perfect spot and circle her folds—and as nice as it feels, it's not where Quinn needs her to be right now. "Rach, baby," she breathes out cautiously against Rachel's lips, "could you…maybe?"

"Hmm?" Rachel hums distractedly.

Quinn reaches down, cupping her hand over Rachel's and guiding her fingers back to the spot that makes Quinn moan. "There. Touch me there," she whispers urgently.

Rachel bites her lip, looking down at their bodies where Quinn's hand is still lightly pressing against hers. "L-like this?" she asks quietly.

"Mmm, yeah," Quinn murmurs blissfully. "Just like that," she urges, coaxing Rachel's head back down for another kiss. Rachel shifts over her, planting her free hand higher on the mattress for balance. Except—"Wait," Quinn grunts, tearing her mouth away and ignoring Rachel's little whine of protest as she reaches up to circle her wrist. "Just, you're on my hair," she explains apologetically. A wounded expression overtakes Rachel's face right before she pushes herself up and rolls away from Quinn, leaving her body screaming in objection. "Rachel?"

"This isn't working," she cries, curling in on herself. "I'm terrible at sex!"

It's the last thing Quinn expects to hear, and a surprised laugh slips out—one that she immediately regrets when she hears Rachel whimper. "You are so far from terrible," she promises, turning onto her side and pulling at Rachel's shoulder until she faces Quinn. There's an unhappy pout curling her lips, but thankfully, she's not actually in tears over this. She looks more frustrated than anything. "Believe me. You're incredibly sexy," Quinn tells her, brushing an appreciative hand over Rachel's curves, "and I get so turned on whenever you touch me." She shrugs, smiling crookedly. "We just need to find our rhythm."

"You're just trying to make me feel better," Rachel protests.

Quinn rolls her eyes, still unconsciously stroking her girlfriend's hip. "Rachel, sex can be awkward. In fact, I've never had really good sex with anyone the first time." And even that is being extremely generous to a few of her partners.

"Not even, Santana?" Rachel asks cautiously.

The question seems to be more genuine curiosity than jealousy, so Quinn answers honestly. "We were drunk. Alcohol tends to make everything seem better than it is." That first time with Santana had felt like the best experience of her life while it was happening, but in aftermath, Quinn could see how awkward and uncoordinated the whole thing was. The second time was definitely better. "The truth is that I didn't know what the hell I was doing, so I pretty much just laid there and let her do all the work."

A quiet, "Oh," slips out as Rachel stares at the ceiling.

Quinn catches the corner of her lower lip between her teeth as she contemplates Rachel's reaction. "Honestly, if this is your first less than perfect experience, then I'm probably the one who should be feeling incompetent right now," she confesses with a frown, suddenly feeling insecure about her own prowess.

Rachel's brow crinkles in disbelief. "I've never even had sex with the lights on before, Quinn. Do you really think my experiences have been perfect?" she asks with a shake of her head, turning onto her side in order to face Quinn more comfortably. Quinn pulls her closer, tangling their lags together as she slides her arm around Rachel's waist. The throb of arousal that never fully dissipated is back in force as soon she feels Rachel's body against her.

Rachel sighs, pressing closer. "I've had my fair share of awkward," she admits with a self-derisive smile, and Quinn bites her tongue to keep from commenting on that, unwillingly thinking of Finn. "I just thought it would be different this time because I'm so incredibly attracted to you, and you're…well, _you_," she says as if that explains everything. "I didn't want to disappoint you," she adds, glancing away.

"Rachel, you're perfect for me," Quinn insists, tightening her embrace. "Just kissing you makes me hot. I've almost come just from hearing you sing," she confesses with a blush. She's not even exaggerating about that. Some of those glee rehearsals had been hell for her. "Being with you right now is already better than being with anyone else because I'm actually in love with you."

The words slip out easily without Quinn even thinking about them, and she only realizes exactly what she's said when she sees Rachel's eyes widen and feels her breath catch in wonder. "You…love me?" she whispers hopefully.

Quinn's heart races with nerves, and she swallows heavily before she nods. There's no use denying it now. "Yeah. Kind of," she adds with a playful grin.

Rachel's lips curve into a trembling smile. "I kind of love you, too."

It's the sweetest thing that Quinn has ever heard, and she smiles back dreamily—happy to gaze at the beautiful woman in her arms who _loves_ her. "Then just love me, Rachel. We'll figure out the particulars as we go."

"I can do that," Rachel decides before leaning forward to catch Quinn's lips in a reverent kiss.

It's not exactly how Quinn imagined saying _I love you_ for the first time, but right now, it feels pretty perfect. It feels even better when Rachel deepens the kiss and hooks her leg over Quinn's hip in an attempt to get even closer to her. It's so easy to fall into the passion that had been building before they'd stopped, and Quinn's need to touch Rachel has her reaching down between their bodies and slipping her fingers into the wet heat between her legs.

Rachel gasps her name in pleasure as her hips rock forward, and Quinn moans in appreciation at the feel of her arousal. "You feel so good," she purrs, stroking the sensitive bud beneath her fingertips.

"Q-Quinn," Rachel whines, moving helplessly against her touch. "I...I need..."

"Tell me," Quinn prompts when it becomes clear that Rachel isn't going to finish her thought.

"Inside," Rachel begs before crashing her lips against Quinn's in a desperate kiss.

Quinn is happy accommodate her, curling two fingers into Rachel with ease, and Rachel arches against her and moans into her mouth. She loves this—the connection she feels to her lover, the power, the heat, and the incredible tightness of inner muscles gripping her fingers. Rachel's blunt nails dig into her shoulder, and the sounds falling from her lips are so fucking erotic. She feels her own body clench in response, and she presses her fingers forward, making Rachel's breath hitch and her body tremble. Quinn drags her thumb across Rachel's clit, stimulating it as well as she can while she concentrates on hitting the spot inside of Rachel that makes her keen again and again.

"You're beautiful," Quinn murmurs, trailing her lips down over Rachel's neck. "So hot. I could do this to you forever."

Rachel shudders against her, moaning Quinn's name she comes undone, contracting hard around her fingers. Quinn never takes her eyes from Rachel's face as she rides out her orgasm, adoring every expression, every whimper, and every spasm of her body until Rachel finally goes lax against her. She kisses her sweetly, slowly freeing her fingers from Rachel's body.

"You're gorgeous when you come," Quinn murmurs, resting her weary arm over Rachel's thigh.

Rachel laughs breathlessly. "You _must_ love me," she muses, a touch of hoarseness in her voice that does wicked things to Quinn's already overstimulated body.

Quinn lets the self-derisive comment slide, simply saying, "I do."

A shudder works its way through Rachel's body before she surges against Quinn, capturing her lips as she rolls forward and urges Quinn onto her back, careful to make sure she doesn't come too close to the edge of the bed. Quinn wraps her arms around Rachel, sighing into the kiss as she feels Rachel's weight settle over her. She tilts her hips up—so aroused right now that she's desperate for any kind of friction.

Rachel's hand slides over Quinn's belly, coming to rest between her legs and quickly finding the spot that Quinn showed her earlier. Quinn moans, letting her legs fall open as Rachel begins to rub tiny circles around her clit while her mouth drifts down, once again seeking out Quinn's breasts.

Rachel certainly is a fast learner—liberal with her tongue, light on the teeth, and concentrating her touch in exactly the right place. "You've…definitely…found your rhythm," Quinn pants out, and she can feel Rachel smile against her skin in response.

"Tell me what you want," Rachel rasps. "Show me how to make you fall apart."

Quinn groans helplessly at the husky growl in Rachel's voice, having never before heard her sound quite like that, and her body tightens in response. "I want _you_," she murmurs automatically before she hazily realizes that Rachel is legitimately asking how to please her. "Your mouth," Quinn instructs, hoping she isn't asking for something that Rachel isn't ready to give her. "God, your mouth, please."

Rachel is quick to comply, sliding down Quinn's body and spreading her legs, although she does hesitate, gazing up at Quinn as she nervously licks her lips. "I've never done this before," she warns.

"If you don't want to," Quinn starts to say, but Rachel dips her head and licks a sure path through her folds, short-circuiting Quinn's brain and turning her words into a hiss of pleasure. Her hands fist into the sheets as her back arches, and she pushes her hips up into Rachel's very talented mouth. There's nothing awkward or fumbling about it. "Fuck, yes!" Quinn cries out. Rachel seems to take that as encouragement and—Jesus Christ, was she holding back before? Because her tongue is fucking magic.

Quinn can feel her body winding tighter as she races to orgasm, and she buries one hand into Rachel's hair, rambling incoherently about wicked tongues and talented mouths and Rachel being a goddamned prodigy at oral sex, and then she's just shouting Rachel's name over and over as her back bows and her body breaks under waves of ecstasy. When she finally drifts back from mindless bliss, it's to the feel of Rachel's mouth still gently coaxing her through every last aftershock, and Quinn reluctantly tugs her away as she tries to regulate her breathing.

"So…so…far…from terrible," she manages with a breathless chuckle.

Rachel beams, crawling up Quinn's body with pride glittering in her eyes. "So…that was good?" she verifies with a grin.

"Best ever," Quinn confirms, looping her arm around Rachel's neck and pulling her down for a languid kiss. Being in love really does make everything so much better.

Rachel grins down at her. "Of course you realize that I'm not one to rest on my laurels. I'm a perfectionist, and we're going to require a lot of practice to get this just right."

Quinn's body responds accordingly to the promise. "Oh, are we?" she asks lightly, smirking at the familiar glint of determination in Rachel's eyes.

"We most certainly are, Quinn," Rachel insists. "I hope you're willing to put in the necessary time and effort."

Quinn tugs Rachel's hips down, rubbing their bodies together enticingly as she cups Rachel's ass. "I think I can make the sacrifice."

"T-that's…good," Rachel stammers, pressing her face into Quinn's shoulders as she moves sensuously against her. "So good."

And it is. It's the best time of Quinn's life. She finally knows where she wants to be and how to get there, and best of all, she has Rachel. Quinn Fabray is done tearing herself to pieces and building walls around her heart with the debris. She intends to build a solid future, starting with this moment. It's time to stop falling and fly.

* * *

¹ _As Time Goes By, written by Herman Hupfeld_


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